


Maybe

by bleedingdaylight



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Community: fc_smorgasbord, Established Relationship, FIFA World Cup 2014, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2014-07-23
Packaged: 2018-02-10 03:51:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2009922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleedingdaylight/pseuds/bleedingdaylight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post-World Cup, as the Davids discuss their future together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maybe

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this due to some serious World Cup withdrawal. I feel like a drug addict if I'm pretty honest. D:
> 
> For fc_smorgasbord’s challenge on LJ. The prompt: _Last time_.

“You do realize this is the last time we’ll ever get to play together?” David Villa says quietly, breaking the early morning silence that fell over the two. The early morning sun illuminates the window curtains, highlighting its edges. “We might be on the same field someday but…just, I won’t get to pass the ball to you ever again or score on your assist.”

It’s a big deal. It shouldn’t be, but it is.

“Come to Manchester,” Silva, his bed partner, whispered back. Villa scoffs. If only it was that simple.

“Yeah, like Man City would take me,” he says bitterly. He can feel the end of his career begin to start. It always starts with the international career. He wonders if Xavi feels the same way. Except, the difference is Xavi is still playing with Barcelona and he isn’t. “Besides, I already signed with New York City.”

Silva turns his head slightly to look at him. “They would, Manchester would,” he promises quietly. “I could convince them.”

Villa sighs and turns away from his lover but still grips onto the contours of his slight but hard frame. “The fact that you need to convince someone to take me says that I shouldn’t be there,” he returns, his voice cold yet so utterly defeated, it breaks Silva’s heart.

“David…” the small man says, his fingertips lightly grazing his cheeks. “You’re the top scorer for the Spanish national team, played with the top teams in the world, won many great championships and conquered many great feats. Your accomplishments are what would bring you to Manchester City, not me spouting some bullshit about how well we work together and how you are as a player.”

Villa laughs bitterly. “I get dumped by Barcelona for some kid and then I couldn’t even stay at Atlético Madrid for more than a year. Do you think Manchester would really gamble on me?”

“Hey, you topped La Liga with them as well as played with them during the Supercopa and just barely lost the Championship League in just one year,” Silva reminds him. “Most people cannot do that in an entire career. Plus, you beat Barcelona in the Championship League and in La Liga.”

Villa rolls his eyes. “That’s not the point, David,” he insists as if he is talking to a small child. “The point is I’m getting old and my career is coming to an end.”

Silva pouts, even though he knows it’s true. Neither of them were getting any younger and injuries at Villa’s age start becoming more and more prominent as the years go on. “I just…I don’t want it to end. This tournament was shit,” he says, knowing he doesn’t make much sense. “I want to go out on a good note, you know? With grace, or whatever.”

David chuckles and replies, “We can’t all be Puyol, unfortunately.”

Silva chuckles too and then sighs heavily. “This shouldn’t be the last time we play, David. I mean it,” he says earnestly, turning Villa’s face so their eyes meet.

Villa’s breath catches because still, after all these years, David is still the most perfect being he’s ever seen, even if he snores loudly the nights before big games and even if he can’t function properly until he has his morning coffee, completely black, no milk, no sugar.

“Come to New York with me,” Villa blurts out before he can even think about what he’s saying, what he’s promising. “The team won’t be ready for another year or so. You can finish out in Manchester City with grace and then come with me.”

David offers him a lazy but thoughtful smile and nods. “Maybe,” he says before leaning down and pecking Villa’s lips and then darting out from under the covers, running stark naked to the hotel bathroom.

“Yeah, maybe,” Villa sighs as he chuckles and follows his boyfriend.


End file.
